You Can Find Me Where The Sea Pours Into The Stars

Also: Big E explaining why he has a least favorite child

Azrael - He rests in his private library, heavy tomes stacked upon his desk, relaxed back in his chair. He enjoys the taste of the recaf, though the caffeine does nothing for him. It's merely for show, acting as though it energizes him. A human affectation to appear more welcoming.

You find him there, knowing if he's still there, he certainly hasn't slept yet. Scolding him won't work, but he'll invite you to join him on a soft lounge and sit with his arm around your shoulders. Perhaps it's a risk, a danger to tell you so much, but you are his confidant above all else.

He talks with you in the soft light of flickering candles, sharing lesser secrets of the chapter's past and caliban's history, drinking the fresh recaf you brought him. The kiss he gives you is soft and sudden, the lingering taste of recaf on his lips. He smiles at you, softly saying how you've fallen into his trap.

Belial - It's hard to see him as anything more than the epitome of strength and perfection. He's forever training his body to higher heights. Flaws cannot exist for him. He must always be better.

But, you are weak - significantly, in comparison. Of course you are, but you still try to improve. Every stumble is simply a hurdle. When he sees you struggle, though, he is there to take it from you and ease your burdens. He takes pride in the way you stare at him in awe. What was such a struggle for you is nothing for him.

He doesn't bring himself low for you, but he does bend. And, he'll kiss you while bent, a quick yet firm press of his lips on yours. He can take the weight from you even when you protest. Let him do it for you, even if he has to kiss you to silence your protests every time.

Sammael - He sits in his garage, hands glistening with oil, back against the Corvex. Heart aching at the loss of more brothers and the loathing of bringing more into his darkness. The Hunt never ends, yet he wishes to see it conclude, if only to relieve himself of this acursed knowledge. Blessed is the mind too small.

You find him there, a bundle of rags and oils in tow as an excuse. He knows you by step alone and doesn't move when you sit close, quiet in the dark space. This is his private space, yet he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is soft and sudden, seeking physical comfort more than romance, the oil on his fingers rubbing onto your cheek. He's apologetic, but smiling with you through his pain. Trying to rub it off only smears it but you kiss him again, excusing the mess for now.

Ezekiel - Sleep does not come easily nor peacefully when sailing through the warp. Instead, he wanders the halls, psyche passively seeking companionship or threats otherwise. Steps nearly silent as he ghosts through the deep halls, hearing every slight drip or rustle of cloth.

You find him drifting, blue cloak fluttering gently in his wake. Drawing his attention to you, he looks briefly relieved to see another living soul. Despite that, he warns you to not travel alone during such travel - best to not be caught by something slipping past the geller field.

Thus, he takes it upon himself to join you. It's menial labor at it's finest, but it calms his busy mind and puts his hands to work. It's quiet, too, peaceful and steady, repetitive. The work goes by quickly together and he stays by your side to walk you to your quarters.

It's a soft, short kiss. A hand on your cheek to draw your attention up, a brush of his lips on yours. He leaves as quietly as he found you, a slight tease in his smile.

Sapphon - He's always seen you at the edges of his periphery. You help to keep his chapel clean, you dutifully dust the relics, you gently remind him when he needs to rest. He's sought your touch for a while, though has never asked for it. The Master of Sanctity shouldn't demand such things, especially not when he's so fond of you.

But, he also confides his worries to you. None but you listen and hear when he speaks of handling Asmodai's temper and quelling Azrael's concern for the chapter. Many nights are drawn out when you sit together and he talks, venting frustrations and listening to you in exchange.

It's been a long day and long night, so it's no wonder when you nod off during his venting, your head resting on his arm. He only smiles at you and pillows your head with a folded robe, hoping its enough to keep you comfortable. His thumb brushes across your lips for a moment, feeling your breath on his skin.

The kiss is soft, but lingering, he's almost drinking in your breaths. He wants to stay there, breathing you in, his lips on yours, but he knows he shouldn't. He's gone too far already... but a second cannot hurt.

Asmodai - You seem him fresh from an interrogation, hands still bloody, robes more red than white. You flinch away at first - he looks more a monster than a man, dark eyes piercing into you, dragging your soul to bear with his knives. He's unforgiving to his brothers, he would show you no sympathy - at least, you believe it so.

Instead of dismissing you or allowing you to flee from him, he commands you close. He brings you to his chapel and you're ordered to help him clean the blood off. It's messy work, the blood stains as your skin as much as it does his.

Eventually, the water turns pure and your hands are only touching his, stroking his scarred forearms. He pulls a hand away and you begin to retract before he's grasped you, pulling you close so you fall into him. Before you can realize, he's kissing you deeply, eyes closed behind the cloth mask, brow furrowed. His lips are hard on yours, consumimg and demanding.

It's short despite its intensity. You'll think of it for weeks to come before he's called you to his chapel once again.

Cypher - He's known you for a while. Picked up by you at his lowest, spirit fractured, body broken. He's lived with you for some time, saying odd things of events yet to come, vague prophecies, warnings when to avoid going into town - more than once preventing you from stumbling into less friendly folks. Once healed, he repays you with labor, hard work, helping until his debt is paid. He can't stay much longer, he tells you. Things beyond your comprehension require his attention.

His steps are silent as he goes to you, the wooden flooring obeying in their refusal to squeak. Kneeling beside your bed, he places a folded note beside you, sealed with pale wax. You turn, a simple shift, your face turning towards his. Moonlight filters through the curtain, casting angelic light across your features.